


Mind if I Slytherin?

by patentpending



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gratuitous Shakespearian Monologues, M/M, Smooth Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: Deceit never can resist flirting with the other sides.  The only problem is when they flirt back.





	Mind if I Slytherin?

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, innuendo, and some suggestive scenes
> 
> The title, in case anyone was wondering, is from that pick-up line "I heard you're going to bed. Mind if I slytherin?" because if Deceit isn't a slytherin, I'm going to riot.
> 
> Anyway, Happy Birthday to my Snakey Son!

Deceit was incorrigible; that, at the very least, was indisputable.

He did things just to see what would happen, thrived in chaos, and scorned the endless rules heaped upon the mindscape.  He pulled pranks more confusing than vicious.  He poked and prodded just to get a reaction.

He was a flirt.

There, really, was where the majority of the problem lied.  Deceit Sanders liked to flirt, he was good at it, and he knew it.

The other sides were all dating each other, so there was no jealousy when Deceit caught one of them staring.  Yet, still, the whole thing would so much easier if he didn’t suggestively flick out his snake tongue and smirk.  If he didn’t know just how to make each side blush.  If he wasn’t so damn _charming._

Virgil, quite honestly, hated being flustered.  His face turned red and his skin itched and his hackles raised and he just wished he could sink into a tiny ball of emo to hide under the covers until the sun went away.

Even before, before he became a light side, when he still lived in that world of shadows in the subconscious, he had shied away from Deceit’s attentions.  Now, he didn’t actively avoid the other side like he did back then - he knew better now - but if Deceit was in one of his moods, it was an adventure to be sure.

 

Thomas was going to go to a party.  Thomas.  A party.  Thomas was going to go to a party with people who were going to judge him and he was going to be socially ostracized and miserable and he was going to trip and spill a drink over Joan’s shirt and they would best-friend break up and -

A thick cauldron of black tar bubbled in Virgil’s gut, every spiraling thought or new scenario sending a little more splashing painfully over his chest, his lungs, his heart, until he could do nothing but clutch himself and pray desperately for this pulse to stop racing.  It wasn’t a panic attack, not yet, but it was anxiety, it was himself, in its purest form.

Closing his eyes painfully tight, he tapped up the volume of his headphones, trying to drown out his thoughts.   _I don’t believe in saints…_

“Well, aren’t you a lovely sight,” a familiar voice purred.  “Nothing tumultuous here  _at all.”_

Virgil cracked open one eye, scowled, and pointedly adjusted his headphones.

“I’m not interested, Dee.”  Virgil gracelessly flung a leg up on the couch, barring the other side from sitting.  “Go find Logan. He’s into” - Virgil waved a hand, trying to encompass Deceit’s general being - “that.”

“As much as I would love to do that” - Deceit smirked - “I could hardly stand to be deprived of your  _charming_  company, now could I?”

Virgil snorted a laugh despite himself, a smile daring to touch the corners of his lips.  “Now I know you’re lying.”

“What? Me?”  Deceit fanned a hand out on his chest, mismatched eyes crinkled and amused.  “I have never done such a thing in my entire life. I detest the very thought of it.  Really, Virgil, how could you ever accuse me of-”

“-okay, you’re overdoing it now,” Virgil interrupted dryly.

The liar pouted, crossing his arms and coiling down on the floor by the couch.  Virgil looked at his expectantly, but the snake just pursed his lips and rested his chin on the edge of the couch.

“What?”  Virgil asked, arching an eyebrow.

Deceit blinked slowly.

“Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now?”

Deceit shrugged extravagantly, pressing his lips together.

“What, you want an apology?”  Virgil snorted.  “Seriously, man, i-”  A wave of exhaustion hit him, and he lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn.  “It’s not going to happen.”

He looked down at Deceit, expecting to see a pouty snake, but instead, Deceit was much nearer and much more intent that he expected.

“You’ve been sleeping well lately, I see,” Deceit said softly, leaning closer.

Virgil started back, eyes wide.  “I’m fine,” he said.  His lie colored the air gray, hanging thick and heavy like cigarette smoke around them.

Slowly enough that Virgil could’ve bolted away, the snake uncoiled himself and sat next to the other side on the couch.

“What do you  _want,_ Dee?” Virgil said helplessly, the nickname falling from his lips before he could stop it.

“Nothing.”  He shifted closer, normally playful eyes oddly determined.  “Nothing you can give me.”

“And what do you mean by that?”  Virgil eyed him, warily.

Deceit’s hands cupped Virgil’s face, achingly tenderly.  He had moved slowly enough that Virgil could’ve stopped him, but he hadn’t.  Dee’s thumbs brushed the circles under Virgil’s eyes, more sallow skin than eyeshadow.  

Virgil waited, but Deceit didn’t say anything, just gently traced the lines of Virgil’s face.  The anxious side couldn’t move.  His earlier worries had been forgotten, but only because of this new agony.  Deceit smelled like chives, spicy and earthy.  His hands were smooth and strong.  His eyes - one the color of liquid gold, the other dark enough to blot out the sun - were soft as they took in Virgil.  Involuntary, Virgil’s lips parted.  Perhaps a word tried to spill out, but it died on his tongue.

A hand brushed though his hair, and Virgil shivered, leaning into the touch.

“What are you doing?”  Virgil said, not even caring how breathless he sounded.

Deceit just smiled, leaning in a little closer.  All it would take was the slightest movement, and they would kiss.  “The emo nightmare look is  _really_  working for you.”

And the moment died.

“Okay, fuck you.”  Virgil pushed a cackling Deceit away, a scowl and color crossing his cheeks.

“Well, you are my type.”  Deceit leaned back, extravagantly stroking his chin.  “Very well, if you insist.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Virgil hissed, strangled.

“Oh, do forgive me, Virgil,” Deceit purred, casually draping an arm around the other side’s shoulders.  “I forget how much you detest me.”

Virgil flushed, bright behind his white foundation.  “That’s a trap.”

“Clever boy.”  The liar hooked their ankles together.  “Yet you don’t deny it?”

“I don’t even know what I’m denying,” Virgil protested hotly.

Deceit grinned, all fangs and sparkling eyes.  “Well, I can’t be expected to do all the work in this relationship, can I?”

Virgil made a strangled sound and launched them into an argument - infuriating, embarrassing, and far more fun than he would ever admit.  They didn’t part until late into the night, when Virgil was slurring his words and fighting to keep his eyes open, Deceit’s cape draped like a blanket around his shoulders.

Virgil never even realized he had forgotten all about the party.

 

 

Logan’s eyes ached.  He felt the headache pounding at the bridge of his nose, and he sighed, leaning back in his chair as if that could relieve the pressure.

Pressing his fingers to his eyes, he allowed himself a moment of reprieve, marveling at the firework display of shapes and images conjured by his brain, eternally known only to him.  Phosphenes, they were called.  A trick of pressure against the retinas to simulate light, one he didn’t see often enough.  An illusion, yet, still, the prettiest lie he knew.

“Good afternoon, Logic.”  A familiar form draped himself in the doorway, a smirk dancing on his lips.  “Or should I say morning?”

Make that the second prettiest.

“Deceit,” Logan greeted, hastily sitting taller and haphazardly yanking his tie back into place.  “What brings you by?”

“Nothing in particular.”  Deceit examined the stitching on his gloves nonchalantly.  “I was just in the area, considering the cinematic parallels between Fight Club and Sesame Street-”

“-do I wish to know?”

_“-definitely_  - when I just so happened to wind up here.”  His long, dark eyelashes fanned out as he looked up through them at Logan, scales shimmering in the light.  “Then again, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

Logan was eighty-seven point four percent certain Deceit practiced alluring poses in the mirror.  Although an actual, quantifiable experiment was unobtainable, he had performed an observational study and concluded Deceit appeared specifically posed sixty eight percent of the time.  (Roman, interestingly enough, led the data at ninety one point three percent of the time. Logan, however, knew for a fact that his boyfriend practiced poses in front of a mirror; he and his other boyfriends had caught him. Multiple times.)

“I know what you’re doing,” Logan informed him, stalwartly refusing to look at him again.

“Oh, I have no doubt.”  Even if he couldn’t see him, Deceit’s voice steeped like honey into Logan’s mind, sweet and sticky, slowing his thoughts and relaxing his mind.  “I would never dare try to go against you in any way, sweet Logic.”

“I don’t need to rest,” Logan said tersely, gripping his pen and daring a side-glance.  Perhaps the other side was like the sun; if Logan didn’t look at him directly, he was in no danger.  “I need to finish this project.”

“Oh, no argument here.”  Deceit shrugged amiably.  “I’m just visiting for the ambiance.”

Logan looked around his bedroom with an arched eyebrow, taking in the tan walls, crisp blue bedspread, book shelves, and absolutely nothing else.  _“Really?”_  He thought about saying, but decided not to press his luck.

“I’m pleased we’re in agreement, then.”  He nodded, then hunched back over his work.

Behind him, Deceit, humming some show tune, oozed into the room and onto Logan’s bed.  Logan couldn’t see him, but he could hear him, rustling around on the crisp sheets.  The headache intensified.  Really, Logan took pains to keep his bed properly made and tidy.  Ridiculously alluring or not, Deceit couldn’t just come in here and-

Those particular thoughts were knocked out of Logan’s head as he turned around.  Yeah, Deceit could do whatever he wanted.

“You’re in my bed,” he said, rather dumbly, but it was a fact, facts and reason went hand-in-hand, and Logan could really use some reason right now.

“Is that right?”  Deceit, lounging on his side and looking at Logan with dark, half-lidded eyes, smirked.  “I hadn’t noticed.”  A hand idly trailed down his torso, emphasizing the thin white shirt and low-slung sweatpants that had replaced his typical ensemble.  “You keep it terribly cold in here, Logan.”  He yawned, forked tongue flicking out.  “Don’t you know it makes us snakes sleepy?”

“Because the blood is moving more slowly,” Logan said automatically.  Facts.  Facts were good.  Facts didn’t lie on his bed and look at him with bedroom eyes.  “It’s possible your brain is shutting down to preserve oxygen. It isn’t fatal, just produces torpidity.”

“How terrible,” Deceit drawled.  “What would be the best solution to reduce that?”

“By increasing body temperature,” Logan said, realizing far too late he had fallen into a trap.

Judging by the way Deceit grinned, he knew it too.  “Tell me, what’s the most effective method to do that?”

“Through body contact.”  Logan huffed.

“Would sharing space be an effective transmittal?”

A hot flush crept up Logan’s neck.  “Yes.”

“A wonderful suggestion,” Deceit purred, turning down the sheets and nestling under them.  “Why don’t we implement it?”

Involuntarily, Logan’s gaze dropped down to Deceit’s mouth, twisted up into a smirk, and he wondered what it would feel like to kiss those infernal quips away.

“I have to work,” he said instead.

“And I have to try not to get brain damage, but what can we do?”  Deceit yawned.  “Look, the hypothermia’s setting in.”

Logan gritted his teeth and turned away.  He wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight like this anyway.  “Fine.”  He went to his drawer, pulling out his pajamas and making for the bathroom.

“Sure you don’t want to change here?”  Deceit called after him, eyes darkening as he licked his lips.  “I  _won’t_  look, I promise.”

Logan knew better than to respond to that.

 

Logan would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of climbing into bed with the other side before, but he hadn’t quite expected it to be like this.

“Perfect,” Deceit had hissed as soon as Logan slipped under the sheets.  “I’ll be wonderfully warm now.”

Logan had half expected the snake to do something untoward, to run a hand along Logan’s arm and cup his face and lean forward until they were a mass of limbs and kisses and heat.

Instead, he rolled over and nestled against the pillow.  “Good night, Logan.”

“Rest well, Deceit.”

Logan itched, both with the nearness of the other side and the piles of unfinished work on his desk.  It was fine, he tried to reassure himself.  He could fix this.  If he arose at six o'clock tomorrow and worked without any breaks until Patton called him for breakfast at around eight, then he might be able to make up for lost time if he also-

“You’re  _such_  a calm sleeper,” Deceit drawled, breath puffing against the nape of Logan’s neck.  “I totally  _can’t_  hear you thinking from over here.”

“The results on studies for extra sensorial perception are inconclusive.”  Logan scowled.  “Furthermore, your objective has been accomplished.  I am resting.  You’re more than welcome to leave.”

It took Logan a moment to realize how still the other side had grown.

“Welcome or… required?” he asked softly.

A lump formed in Logan’s throat, pushing the words out.  “The former.”

The snake relaxed slowly, melting back into the piles of blankets.  “In that case” - he coiled closer to Logan, pressing himself against his back - “I’ll be leaving. This whole exercise is detestable, after all.”

Deceit wasn’t warm.  He didn’t radiate heat like Roman or Patton, and he didn’t know how to play with Logan’s hair like Virgil did.  Deceit wasn’t like any of Logan’s loves.  Yet, still, he was solid in a way they were not - a lie, a shield.  He was strong and firm against Logan, a barrier against the world.

“Yes,” Logan murmured, shifting closer, “I quite agree.”

A kiss planted itself against the nape of Logan’s neck, so soft and brief that he could almost pretend it hadn’t happened.  Instead, he took the taloned hand curled against his chest and laced their fingers together.

There, with Deceit curled around him, smooth and firm and lovely, Logan fell asleep.

 

 

Roman was, by anyone’s standards, an excellent flirt.  He had been the one to gather the original four sides into a relationship in the first place, and, every time Virgil snorted or Patton smiled or Logan’s eyes sparkled, he was more grateful that he had.

Roman was ridiculously charming; he was a prince after all!  He was suave and noble and composed.  He could ensnare any prince or side who crossed his path with just a smile and a glance.  He was literally the side of romance; of course he was a good flirt.

So, why then, did he absolutely lose it every time Deceit even came near him?

It was, frankly, embarrassing.  He was no stranger to blushing when Virgil’s insults gave way to tenderness.  He felt almost shy when Patton peppered him with praise.  His heart flipped inside his chest when Logan held his hand.  Still, throughout all that, he could return his beloveds' affections with equal fervor.

With Deceit, he was a blushing, stuttering, melting mess.

It didn’t even take much.  Case in point: the incident a few weeks before.

 

“Subjected thus” - Roman ran a hand down his face, shoulders stopped under the weight of the world - “how can you say to me: I am king?”

His final words rang out over the empty mindscape theatre, echoing off of the high ceilings and crashing against thick, draping curtains.  He stood still as the final dredges of his voice faded away, then immediately perked up, guise of Richard the Second falling away.

“Excellent as always, Roman!” he sang out, congratulating himself.  At this rate, Thomas’s audition would go splendidly.  Still, it never hurt to keep practicing.  He needed perfect, after all!

He cleared his throat, letting his mind wonder for a moment, before he settled on an old favorite.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?”  Backstage, where Roman couldn’t see, a door opened, streaming in golden light.  “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she: be not her maid, since she is envious.”

A familiar snake slowly slithered towards the wings, strides even and mischief dancing in his smile.

“Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, Oh-”

Roman’s voice caught in his throat as he caught side of a golden eye, nearly shining in the dim lights.

His words, when he spoke again, were far too soft, far too honest.  “It is my love. Oh, that he knew he were.”

Deceit smiled, slipping closer and closer until he was barely shrouded in the shadows, those eyes glowing.

“He speaks yet he says nothing: what of that? His eye discourses-”

Another voice, deep and smooth as silk interrupted.  “I will answer it.”

Deceit emerged, striding smoothly, confidently towards Roman.  “I am too bold,” he said wryly. “'Tis not to me he speaks.  Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat his eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if his eyes were there, they in his head?”

Roman felt like he was glowing, chest light and a grin flirting with the corners of his lips as Deceit stopped before him.

“The brightness of his cheek would shame those stars,” Deceit told him, “as daylight doth a lamp; his eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night.”

Roman suddenly found he couldn’t look at Deceit directly; he ducked his gaze to the floor, tucking a lock of hair behind his own ear.

“See, how he leans his cheek upon his hand!”  Deceit stopped him there, a gentle touch that both froze Roman in place and set him aglow.

“Oh,” Deceit purred, peeling off his glove, “that I were a glove upon that hand, so I might… touch that cheek.”  Achingly tenderly, he brushed his bare hand along Roman’s cheek; he shivered at the catch of scales against his skin.

“Ay me,” Roman breathed, heart pounding a staccato rhythm against his chest.  It was the line, but only by coincidence.

Deceit grinned, all sly mischief and fanged teeth.  “He speaks!  Oh, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as  _glorious_  to this night” - both of Deceit’s bare hands were cupping Roman’s face, mismatched eyes shining at him like he was every bit the angel those pretty words called him - “being o'er my head as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air.”

They were pressed together, flush from knee to chest, as Deceit purred to Roman, lavishing him in love and praise.

_Oh, Romeo, oh, Romeo._ Roman had known this entire scene by memory since Thomas was seventeen.  He knew these words like the beat of his heart, like the stage beneath him.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.  His blush intensified until he could feel it pressing against his skin, face burning.

“Hm.”  Deceit hummed, arching an eyebrow at him.  “Maybe I’ll tone it down next time.  I’d hate to break you.”  He bowed low, mischief dancing in the line of his smile.  “Farewell, dear Capulet.”

He took Roman’s hand and pressed a kiss to it.

Roman made a very dignified squeak.

Deceit smirked up at him, mismatched eyes shining, and then was gone.

Roman stood there for a long moment, trying futility to calm his racing heart beat.  Pressing his trembling hands to his flushed cheeks, he realized that he was smiling.  Warm contentment curled up in his stomach, and he dropped to sit on the edge of the stage, giggling to himself and swinging his feet in the air.

Roman was a master flirt.  He was the wooer to conquer all wooers.  He was the pursuing prince, the knight in shining armor.  He was the side of romance.

Then again, he considered, flopping back to stare up into the dizzying heights of the rafters and sweeping velvet curtains, he didn’t always have to be.

It was nice to let someone else take control.

Roman tucked his arms under his head and grinned.  Yeah, he could deal with that.

 

 

Originally, Deceit meant it, as he did most things, sarcastically.

“Deceit Sanders.”  Patton stood before him, the moral side’s hands perched on his hips and mouth twisted up.  “What have I said about impersonating me?”

“‘The other sides are idiots, but even idiots deserve dignity and respect’,”  Deceit parroted reluctantly, arms crossed and gaze fixed sullenly on the floor.

“That’s right.”  Patton relaxed, granting him a soft, wry smile.  “I know you like to snake-”

“-nice one, not at all obvious-”

“-don’t  _hiss_  me off, Dee - into our conversations, but you know we’d be just as happy to talk to _you_ you.”

The snake started, gaze snapping up from the floor.  His eyes were wide, mouth soft and parted for a moment before he schooled his features back into sculpted nonchalance.  “I wouldn’t tell on the others.  I’m no  _rattle-_ snake.”

Patton arched an eyebrow.  “Do you really think you can distract me from character development with puns?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

“A little bit.”

Deceit grinned, fanged teeth shining.  “Then you can hardly blame me for trying, can you, darling?”

That was the precise moment Patton knew he was doomed.  He froze, ice seizing his limbs even as his insides turned warm and soft, like chocolate chips in a batch of freshly baked cookies.

“I need to leave right now immediately,” Patton blurted out, limbs awkwardly stiff and eyes frozen wide as he turned to lumber away.

Like the predator he was, Deceit smelled blood and pounced.

“What’s wrong,  _darling?”_   He slithered between Patton and the exit, eyes dancing with mischief.  He leaned against the doorframe with far too much grace, all long limbs and coiled tension.  “You look distressed, kitten.”

Patton was going to melt into a puddle of padre.  “I… um, I just…”  His face flamed, mind suddenly drowning in honeyed words and soft eyes.

“Is something wrong, my lo- my little honey bee?”

“I’m gay,” Patton said, then immediately started panicking.  “Good! I meant good. I mean I am very gay but there’s no reason I would’ve said that randomly since we all are, especially Logan, wow he’s a disaster, but it’s not like I have room to talk I mean-”  

He was suddenly and painfully aware he was rambling, dousing Deceit in verbal vomit as the other side stood with a bemused eyebrow arched.

He forcibly clamped his jaw shut.  “Perfectly fine,” he said carefully, “but I need to escape- I mean gay- I mean _go.”_

“By all means.”  The shamelessly suave snake swept a hand into the hallway, making no signs of moving.  “Be my guest, handsome.”

“Okay, I will.”  Patton crept closer and closer, eyeing the half of the doorway not taken up by the other side.  It wasn’t enough space.  “I’m going to.”

Deceit licked his lips and grinned.  “I’m not stopping you.”

“I know you’re not,” Patton said stalwartly, turning himself sideways to edge past the snake.

Deceit’s foot hooked around his ankle, and Patton, stopping, looked up at him, the most pleasant shivers running down his spine.  

“Where  _are_  you going, sweet heart?”  The flirt rested a hand against the wooden slat Patton was pressing his back against; he leaned in closer.  “I’ll miss you, honey.”

There couldn’t have been more than two inches between their faces.  Two inches, two miles, two light years.  His gaze darting down to Deceit’s lips before shooting back up to those wicked eyes, Patton wondered what it would take to close that gap.

“Nope bye,” Patton squeaked, then started sprinting.

Logan, Virgil, and Roman looked up, alarmed, as Patton rushed into Logan’s room at a million miles an hour, slamming the door behind him and pressing his back against it as if something would try to break through after him.

He looked up at the other sides, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.  “We  _really_  gotta do something about Deceit.”

 

 

It seemed strange, at first, for each side to individually realize he was attracted to the snake, but… it couldn’t exactly be helped.  At least he had the consolation of knowing he wasn’t alone in his torment, each other side joining him in his misery.

“His hair!” Patton wailed, throwing himself bodily onto the plush velvet couch in Roman’s room.  As the side of romance, Roman thought it only appropriate that they convened to despair over their doom in his room.

“It’s just so fluffy,” Patton continued, voice muffled by the way half his cheek was smushed into the thick pillows.  “I wanna wrap him up in blankets and just  _pet_  him.”

“Yes, but have you heard his voice?”  Roman cried, throwing a hand against his forehead and swooning.  Virgil dove across the room to catch him in the nick of time.

“Melted dark chocolate tempered with the finest notes of silver, I swear,” he sighed up at Virgil, unperturbed by his nearly horizontal angle.

“Is it really swoon-worthy, though?”  Virgil scowled and unceremoniously dropped him the last few inches.

_“Obviously!”_  Roman threw up his arms, seemingly resigned to sprawling on the thick carpet.  “What do you think could possibly be better?”

Virgil shrugged, huddling deeper in his hoodie as the other three’s eyes turned to him.  When he spoke, it was a reluctant mumble as his face burned red.  “I just like talking to him.  He gets me.”

Patton cooed, jumping up to pepper his love’s face with kisses, practically glowing with excitement.  “That’s cute!”

Virgil made a few prerequisite noises of protest, but he was smiling when Patton pulled back.

“You’re rather quiet over there, Mansfield Snark.”  Roman lifted his head from the floor and narrowed his eyes at the logical side.  “What ever could you be thinking?”

“I-I’m…” Logan was silent for a long, long moment.  “Merely considering snake anatomy.”

Patton blinked, tilting his head, as Virgil’s eyes widened and a wicked smirk took over Roman’s face.

“I should’ve known our resident nerd would be heading straight for the jewels,” he purred.

Logan hit him in the face with a pillow.

“Worth it,” Roman laughed, swatting it away.

“Virge?”  Patton blinked up at him.  “What are they talking about?”

“His… scales,” Virgil lied lamely.

“Oh, yes!”  Patton perked up.  “They’re so pretty! Have you seen it when he’s in the sunshine, and they just  _glitter_  so many colors?”

The others let out silent breaths of relief as Patton let the subject go, the sound of his bubbling, chipper voice washing over them like a wave of warmth.  They relaxed into the sound and eventually found themselves tangled up in a pile of limbs on Roman’s bed, arms wrapped around shoulders and heads resting on stomachs and legs curled up against each other.

“I am… terribly fond of you all,” Logan confessed quietly.  Patton rewarded him with a kiss on the nose.

“We love you, too, L.”  Virgil rolled his eyes.  “Do we need to update your modern lingo software again?”

“Oh, but old words are quite luminescent!”  Roman protested.  “I tell you, that Shakespeare guy knew what he was talking about.”

“A remarkable discovery, truly,” Logan deadpanned.

“I know!”  Roman beamed.  The smile flickered on his face then fades entirely.  “I just wish they were of any use to me.”

Patton tilted his head so it rested on Roman’s sternum.  “What do you mean, Ro?”

“I just…”  Roman made an aborted hand gesture, choosing wisely not to risk hitting a half-asleep Virgil.  “I can never find the right words with Deceit.  He’s so infuriatingly charming-”

\- “Rich coming from you,” Virgil yawned -

“-and I just can’t  _compose_  myself around him.”  An almost shy smile lifted the edge of his lips.  “Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you.”

“I know how you feel.”  Patton nodded sagely.  “He uses those pet names, and I just _melt.”_

“It would be ideal if we could somehow reverse our positions,” Logan mused, smoothing Virgil’s hair off of his forehead despite the emo’s sleepy attempts to bat it back down.  “If we could somehow inflict the same emotions-”

“You make it seem like blushing is a battle wound,” Roman chortled.

“It is,” Virgil said darkly.

“-upon him as he does on us…”  Logan sighed.  “Perhaps he would be here now.”

Patton smiled at the very thought, imagining a head full of curls on the pillow next to him, taloned fingers intertwined with Virgil’s, smooth, cool limbs resting between Logan and Roman.  “Well, why don’t we?”

“It’s not that simple, Patton.”  Roman clucked.  “He’s a master of sedu-”

Virgil elbowed him.

“-sedition,” Roman hastily amended.  “He’s good at rebelling against the state.  That’s unrelated.  I don’t know why I said that.”

Patton rolled his eyes.  “It could be that simple, though!  He always catches us alone and off-guard, but if we all were there, and we all had a plan to fluster him like he does us…”

“Then we could finally be on even footing!”  Logan finished, lighting up.  “That’s it. Patton, you’re a genius!”

Patton giggled, nestling closer to him.  “You’re sweet.”

Logan pressed a kiss to his forehead, and the planning began.

 

“They’re asleep,” Roman murmured softly, reverently, as he watched the two parts of his whole slumber.  The left-brained sides had worked ardently to formulate a plan, and they had crashed a new minutes ago.  Then again, the right-brained sides weren’t far behind.

“Hey, Roman?”  Patton muttered drowsily.

Achingly tenderly, Roman carded a hand through his soft hair.  “Yes, my heart?”

“We should really tell Logan” - he yawned - “to stop thinking about snake dicks all the time.”  Within seconds, the supposedly innocent side was asleep.

Roman didn’t sleep a wink.

 

 

Upon the morning of his doomsday, Deceit was in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and  watching as Patton whipped up pancakes.  Halfheartedly, they tried to convince Logan to not eat Crofters straight out of the jar to satiate his pre-breakfast hunger.  It was an unsurprisingly futile effort.

Earlier, the light sides had shuffled into the kitchen together, glasses crooked and soft with sleep.  Deceit was already up; he didn’t need to rest nearly as much as they did.

“Good morning, gorgeousses,” the snake hissed, setting down his script for Heathers and flashing a coy smile their way.

Besides a quick glance at each other, however, they hadn’t responded with anything more than a greeting.

It was fine, Deceit assured himself.  He just needed to wait a moment longer for them to wake up enough to properly appreciate his provocations.

He watched them now as Logan finished the last of the jam (with a spoon, the heathen), and offered his assistance to Patton.  There was an easy rhythm to the way they act.  Domestic and gentle and exciting all at once - it was forged from time and tenderness.  They spoke an intangible language with words Deceit could only dream of ever understanding.  A hand on the small of the back.  _I’m here._   A touch on the elbow.   _Hand me that?_  A brushing of fingers.  _Thank you._  A kiss on the cheek.  _I love you._

Deceit’s reverie was broken, however, by a familiar gravelly voice.

“You were dreaming, Princey,” Virgil snorted, running a hand through his messy hair, as they trudged into the kitchen.

“He really said it!”  Roman hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him close, whispering with a low voice and sparkling eyes.

“He really wouldn’t have,” Virgil chuckled.  “Come on, Ro.”

Where Logan and Patton created a conversation out of movements, Roman and Virgil created a performance out of words.  Their lives were lived on the fiery edge of debate and passion around each other, chasing and pursuing, giving and taking, spewing insults with no venom and muttering complements with far too much tenderness.  They danced.

They whirled around each other like a waltz, and Deceit was left, alone in the audience, breathless with wonder.

He didn’t even notice the nods the other four exchanged.

“You carry far too much tension.”  Logan was suddenly behind him, hands on Deceit’s shoulders.  “What on Earth are you so stressed about?”

“Nothing,” the snake drawled, “my life is roses and-”  Logan started massaging his shoulders, and Deceit clamped his mouth shut before he moaned.  Oh, that felt fantastic.  He didn’t realize he was leaning backwards until he opened his eyes to see Logan hovering above him, eyes shining in a way usually reserved for looking at the stars.

“What a comfortable and regular distance for you to be,” Deceit said dryly.  “This isn’t weird at all.”

Yet Logan just smiled, and Deceit felt himself melt.

“No,” he agreed.  “It isn’t weird.”  Then his lips were on Deceit’s.  He was sweeter than Deceit would’ve thought, the taste of raspberry lingering in the sweep of his lips.

Everything inside of Deceit screamed  _yes!,_  and it took every ounce so self control he had to push away.

“What are you going?” he demanded.  “They’re right there!”  He gestured furiously at the other sides, backing away from Logan.

“I’m aware,” the logical side said calmly.  “There is neither jealousy nor animosity between the five of us. As for my other action…”  He adjusted his glasses, suddenly unable to look at Deceit directly.  “It was the indulgence of a long-harbored need.”

“One shared by all of us,” Roman purred.

“I don’t, I,” Deceit stammered, silver tongue at a loss for words.

“Something wrong, sugar  _Dee?”_   Patton grinned, bouncing on his toes.

Deceits eyes widened.  “No,” he said softly.  “Are you-?”

He was cut off as Virgil grabbed his hand, drawing him close, so close Deceit was sure the other side could feel his heart drumming against his ribs.  “Are we what?”  He brushed his hand over Deceit’s scales, sending shivers down his spine.  “Using your tactics against you?”  Virgil grinned, pressing their foreheads together.  “We would  _never.”_

A strangled, squeaking hiss escaped the snake.  Virgil laughed and kissed him. Deceit barely had time to register warmth and the taste of black coffee before he was whisked into Roman’s arms.

The prince grinned down at him, eyes soft.  “I am giddy,” he confided. “Expectation whirls me around; the imaginary relish is so sweet that it enchants my sense.”  He took Deceits hand and gripped it tight.  “What will it be when that the watery palate tastes indeed loves thrice-repured nectar?”  His caramel eyes dropped down to Deceit’s lips, and the other side felt faint.

He was going to kiss him.  Roman was going to kiss him.

“Death, I fear me, swooning destruction, or some joy too  _fine”_  - Roman winked - “too subtle potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness for the capacity of my ruder powers.”

Roman’s breath caught in his throat, voice softening.  “I fear it much, and I do fear besides I shall lose distinction in my joys.” He tucked a loose curl behind Deceit’s ear.  “But to you, all my joys I shall grant.”

Deceit narrowed those mismatched eyes.  “Did you add that?”

Roman grinned.  “You’ve showed me there’s nothing wrong with a little improvisation.”

Then Roman leaned forward and kissed him.

Oh, Deceit realized faintly, he had nearly forgotten that Roman was _passion._  Roman was everywhere, a burning body pressed against him, strong fingers curling around his hips, burning, insistent lips.

“I think,” Deceit said breathlessly, once they parted, “I’m a good influence, in that case.”

Virgl snorted.  “Sounds fake but okay.”

“Be nice, Virge.”  Patton bounced up on his toes to kiss the taller side’s cheek.  “Our snarky, snakey sugar pie needs to know we love him.”

Adrenaline hit Deceit’s heart directly, electricity singing through his veins.  “You… oh.”

Patton just smiled at him, eyes shining.  “What, you thought you could be sweet-”

“And charming!”  Roman interjected.

“And kinda… funny or whatever,” Virgil muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“And rather caring,” Logan added, smiling softly.

“-and we wouldn’t fall in love with you, honey?”  Patton stepped forward and took his hands.  “I thought not fooling yourself was your whole thing.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to presume, I…”  Deceit was raw, lies stripped away by the emotion pulsing in his chest.  He blinked rapidly.  “I thought the only way I could ever be a part of… was if I was the one to flirt with you.”

Patton grinned.  “Then do it.”  He squeezed the other side’s hands.  “Say you love me.”

Deceit bit his lip unconsciously, shaking his head.  His voice, usually smooth with silver and lies was soft, hesitant.  “You know I do.”  Slowly, his mismatched gaze swept over each other side.  “I love all of you.”

“Good,” Patton said, rising to kiss the other side, slowly, softly.  “We love you, too, angel.”

Deceit’s face burned, and he tried to hide his blush in his hands, but Logan pulled his hands away, taking them in his own.

“Why don’t you let us see that pretty face, hm?”  Roman winked.

“I… I, um, I just,” Deceit stammered, hands tightening on Logan’s and face burning with a fiery blush.  “That… went according to plan.”

Virgil shot him a skeptical look.  “No, it didn’t.”

“No, it didn’t,” the snake muttered reluctantly.

Then again, surrounded by his loves and being showered in affection, he didn’t quite mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like two days, so I know there's typos in here somewhere. Roast me when you find them.
> 
> So much love to all of you <3


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